


Draco's Personal Saviour

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broomstick Accident, Caring Harry Potter, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Handshake, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Kind Harry Potter, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Saviour! Harry Potter, Slightly Injured Draco (Nothing too bad - a few bruises), Using First Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: When Draco awakens in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, he is horrified to find Harry Potter waiting there as well.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	Draco's Personal Saviour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earlgreyhot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreyhot/gifts).



> This is for the lovely earlgreyhot. I tried to fit in a few of your favourite tropes: Eighth Year, Harry's saving people thing, Harry's sarcasm (a little bit!), blunt Draco and definitely a happy ever after. I really hope you enjoy this. It was a lot of fun to write. 
> 
> I hope both you - and all the people you love - have a happy Christmas and a healthy and prosperous 2021.

Draco came back to himself slowly, like he was swimming to the surface of the Black Lake. 

His vision was blurry and his head ached like he’d been hexed. It took him a minute to start to realise where he was; the poster of the Appleby Apples and his favourite photo of Mum and Dad that adored the wall of the Slytherin dorm were missing from the front of his bed. It was only when the starchy scent of sheets assailed his senses – cut through with the rank stink of potions – that Draco knew. 

Merlin’s bloody _teeth_. He was in the Hospital Wing! 

Draco threw himself back on hard cotton pillows. 

He couldn’t believe it. How on Circe’s green Earth had he ended up here? It wasn’t like that time when he’d been attacked by the ruddy great Hippogriff. Draco could remember those events well enough. The panic on the face of that great oaf Hagrid. The strength of the giant’s arms as he’d been hoisted up into the air as though he weighed as little as a feather. Draco remembered how he’d enjoyed the fuss of the medical staff and what a big deal he’d made of the event for weeks afterwards. 

Today though? Draco had no idea how he had managed to get himself so bruised and battered. 

Gingerly, Draco stretched out his arms and legs. They were achy – bruised, for certain – but nothing hurt like it was badly broken. That was a small mercy. He loathed the taste of that repulsive Skele-Gro. 

Draco focussed the thoughts in his throbbing brain and screwed his eyes tightly shut. 

He couldn’t be _too_ badly injured. If that was the case they’d have Flooed him to St Mungos. Draco didn’t think that he’d been hit by a hex or a curse either. There wasn’t the telltale prickling under his skin that always came alongside other people’s magic. 

Had it been a potions accident? Draco tried to remember his last lesson down in the laboratory. Slughorn had been at the front, droning on excitedly, his jowls wobbling with every word he spoke. No, that hadn’t even been a blasted practical lesson! Their class hadn’t done anything more exciting than a practice N.E.W.T exam. 

Draco’s eyes shot open, realisation flooding through him. 

He’d been flying! That was _it_. That was how he’d gotten injured. Everything was beginning to come back to him. He’d taken out his new Cleansweep Razorback 500 out early, just as the dawn rose over the Scottish mountains and it’d been heavenly. 

A warming spell had kept the worst of the chill from his bones but Draco had still felt the ice bite of it stinging his skin. He’d felt the breeze rippling his hair. Up in the empty air he was just Draco. He wasn’t a marked ex-Death Eater. He wasn’t a pariah. 

Draco remembered that he’d really been enjoying himself. He’d ran a few Quidditch drills, but Draco remembered that he’d soon gotten bored of those. He’d taken to diving and swooping – and he’d felt free, properly _free_ , in a way that he only ever did in the sky – and then – 

Draco felt his cheeks flood with mortification. 

He’d been flying, high about the Castle, but he hadn’t been alone! There’d been another wizard there alongside him! 

Another wizard who had spied the crisp beauty of the morning and who had shared Draco’s brilliant idea. There’d been another wizard craving the very same freedom. 

Draco’s memories were assaulted by visions of jade green eyes sparkling in the winter sunshine and black, untameable hair. Draco remembered that the two of them had been racing. They’d been trying to outdo each other’s feats of daring, of audaciousness and _then_ – 

“Madam Pomfrey… Madam _Pomfrey!_ I think Draco’s awake!” cried the voice of Harry Potter, clarion loud in the silence of the Hospital Wing. “I’m getting out of bed,” Potter continued, assaulting Draco’s eardrums with his noise. “I’m going to check on him!”

Draco heard the rustle of sheets from two beds down and then the clump of heavy footsteps across the stone floor.

In only seconds Potter was stood beside his bed, as large as life and twice as gorgeous. Draco turned his head slowly – very slowly, his neck was dreadfully sore – and found Harry’s eyes with his own. They were wide, guileless and full of genuine concern. 

“Oh thank Merlin you’re awake,” Potter said. “You gave me a bloody fright when you came off your broomstick Malfoy! You’re okay now though! I never thought I’d be so happy to see your scowling face! There were a few seconds where I thought you were off to meet your maker this morning.” 

Draco half-wished that he could have met his maker. 

Death, surely would have been preferable to having Harry Potter as his own, personal Saviour. 

For a single mad moment Draco thought about Apparating away but soon gave up on that idea. His wand was still beside his bed in the Dungeon and the spell wouldn’t work in the grounds of Hogwarts. 

Draco made a small groan; half with pain and half with the realisation that he was actually needed to reply. 

Potter’s eyes widened at the sound. “Malfoy, you’re in pain and I’m stood here rambling! I’m sorry!” he uttered, furrowing his brow with obvious dismay. “I’m just happy you’re in one piece! When you feinted sliding off your broom – and then you actually _slid off!_ – I couldn’t believe my eyes!”

Draco wished that he could sink into the bedsheets and never be found again. Luckily, he was saved from having to make a grovelling thank you by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey at his bedside. The witch held a smoking phial of milky purple potion in her hand and she placed it carefully onto Draco’s bedside table. 

“You gave us all a nasty fright Mr. Malfoy,” she said, casting a series of diagnostic spells as she spoke. Draco watched as multicoloured lights flickered between Potter and he and then slowly faded back into the ether. “I must say that I’m surprised at you,” Madam Pomfrey continued, making a _tsk_ ’ing noise. “Slipping off you broomstick like a fledgling First Year! Thank Godric that Mr. Potter was here to save the day once again! If it hadn’t been for the speedy cushioning spell that he cast, you wouldn’t be alive to have this conversation, young man.”

Madam Pomfrey gave Draco’s forearms an investigating squeeze before she continued speaking. 

“All your injuries are healing beautifully. You should be able to leave very soon.” Her expression softened and her eyes flicked over to Potter. “You’re a lucky wizard to have such a dedicated boyfriend, Mr. Malfoy. I’ll have you know that he carried you all the way here himself– ”

“I actually used a levitating charm,” Harry cut in, his voice decidedly more squeaky than it’d been before. “I didn’t carry him as _such_ – ”

“–And there wasn’t a _thing_ that I could do to convince him to leave you! He waited diligently for you to wake and wouldn’t even leave when lessons began. In the end I was forced to have him lay in the other bed so that he wouldn’t be under my feet.”

Draco wondered if he had woken into a parallel universe. It was entirely possible. He’d already lived through a War and shared a home with a homicidal Dark Wizard. He had no idea of the depths of insanity that his life could potentially plunge to. 

“You’re mistaken, Madam Pomfrey. Harry’s not my boyfriend,” Draco croaked. “We’re scarcely even friends.”

Madam Pomfrey gave him a sympathetic smile and picked up the phial of potion. She placed it into Draco’s hands. “Of course, dear. Now it seems your fractures have all healed and your bruising is fading nicely. If you’ll please just drink this muscle restorative potion then you can be on your way after one hour of observation.”

Draco swallowed the smoky purple potion. It really tasted truly wretched. Madam Pomfrey watched him finish every drop and then she departed, giving Potter a final nod and smile. 

Truth be told, Draco didn’t think that he’d ever quite been this humiliated. He remembered the time that Potter and his golden chums had turned him into a gigantic slug-like creature. That hadn’t been as embarrassing as having Potter stood in silence beside him.

Draco remembered detentions, Quidditch losses and even getting bitten on the leg by one of his family peacocks. All of those occasions paled in comparison to this very moment. 

He forced himself to look at his personal Saviour. Potter’s face was as red as his own. 

“I suppose I should say thank you,” Draco muttered, putting on his best aristocratic drawl. “Saved by the _Chosen One_ himself! There’s many a wizard that would be overjoyed with such an experience, despite the vile potions, the concussion and the bruises that came alongside it.”

Potter’s reaction to his insolence wasn’t anything like Draco might have imagined. Instead of being angry, Potter simply laughed. 

“I _suppose_ that you’re correct,” Harry said, taking off Draco’s stilted, unnatural tone, “but if I’m really honest I don’t give a stuff about any of those other wizards. _I’m_ the one that’s overjoyed because _you’re_ fine and back to your flinty old self.”

Draco felt the familiarity of a sarcastic reply bubble in his throat. 

He supposed that he _ought_ to tell Potter it was his fault he was stuck in the Hospital Wing. If the glittering git hadn’t been showing off on his fashionable new Nimbus then Draco wouldn’t have gotten so distracted that he slid off his own broomstick. Draco supposed he _ought_ to tell Potter to get back to the Weasel and Insufferable Granger; that the two would be pining for his presence by now. 

Draco didn’t say either of those things though. He didn’t want Potter to leave. 

Somehow – be it magic, or just Gryffindor intuition – Potter seemed to read his mind. The other wizard pulled up a chair and sat down, casting a speedy _Tempus_ to count down the hour that Draco needed to stay in bed. After a few minutes of small talk, Potter suddenly got a cheeky glint in his green eyes. 

“I’ve got a special request for you, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Something I’d only ask of somebody whose life I’d saved.”

Draco snorted his derision. “I don’t owe you a bloody life debt!” he quickly replied. “If you’d have actually _listened_ during History of Magic then you’d have known they’ve been illegal since 1756– ” 

“I was a bit bloody busy during my school days!” Harry interrupted, laughing once again. “No! Not a life debt. Something even _more_ powerful.” He paused then, making a deliberate ploy to build up the tension between them. “I’ve got one little rule I live by: I insist that everybody whose life I’ve saved has to call me Harry. So that’ll be my reward. I’d like you to call me by my given name.” With that, the wizard stuck out his hand. It hovered in the air between them. “Harry Potter,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Draco – trained since he was naught but a tiny child in decorum and the _proper_ way to do things – took Harry’s hand without a second thought. It wrapped around his own. It was calloused, terribly warm and tingled with potent magic. An unconscious shiver rolled across Draco’s skin. 

“Draco,” he answered. “And thank you. You saved my life, Pott…” He gulped. “You saved my life, Harry.”

Harry grinned. “And it wasn’t even the first time, Draco. We’re making a habit of this.”

Draco didn’t reply. He only nodded, wondering when he was actually going to wake up from this dream. Part of Draco hoped that he never would. 

The wild haired wizard quietened for a moment then and picked a loose thread from the cuff of his tatty woollen jumper. “I think, perhaps that we need to make new habits, Draco,” Harry said. “Make new memories. Madam Pomfrey though we looked like boyfriends. Would you like to go on a date with me? See if we could make it a reality?”

Draco’s heart raced in his chest. This must surely be a dream. This was too good to be his life. Draco looked deeply into Harry’s eyes but there wasn’t any hint of deceit in them. The other wizard wasn’t having his fun with him or joking around. Harry was in earnest. 

“Yes,” Draco said quietly. “Yes, of course. I’d like that.”

Harry nodded. “That’s wonderful,” he said, his face gentle. “When I watched you lying there, your face all pale? Your eyes closed? All I could think was that I didn’t want to lose you. There’s nobody quite like you, Draco. Nobody at all.” Harry seemed to brighten after a moment. “What shall we do for our date?” he asked. 

Draco thought about it for a minute. “Take me flying on your broomstick,” he replied, “but hold onto me tightly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


End file.
